


iii

by salexectria



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Dragon Age - Freeform, F/F, Hawke attempts to propose to Merrill but is interrupted, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:23:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22730161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salexectria/pseuds/salexectria
Summary: a secret palentine gift for Tafka! <3
Relationships: Female Hawke/Merrill
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	iii

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tafka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tafka/gifts).



> a secret palentine gift for Tafka! <3

i.

The first attempt would have been the fairytale proposal Merrill deserved.

Hawke fidgeted while Merrill wasn’t looking. It was so unlike her but she couldn’t help but feel weak every time Merrill turned her bright eyes to her in excitement as they strolled through some rich politician’s garden in high town. Technically, it was trespassing, but Varric owed Hawke a favor, and now the owner of said garden was going to be preoccupied for at least an hour. More than enough time for Hawke to work up the courage to get down on one knee. She followed a half a step behind her lover, listening to Merrill as she rattled off the names of all the flowers, and herbs, and while no one was watching, gathered a few samples to take with her. 

“Let it be our secret,” she whispered, holding a flower to her lips. 

Hawke’s heart missed a beat.

Merrill’s fingers wound themselves between Hawke’s, and tugged her further along the path, continuing to denote the various flora and their uses. Hawke sighed as she watched the love of her life’s eyes light up each time they turned down a new path, fixating on the next new plant. She could listen to soft lull of Merrill’s voice all day, but today unfortunately time wasn’t going to allow for that.

At the edge of the garden stood a giant willow tree, it’s flowers just beginning to bloom. Merrill released her hold on Hawke to spring forward, dipping between its long hanging branches.

Pressing a hand against the tree’s trunk Merril said, “Mmm, she is happy here.”

“How can you tell?” Hawke parred the curtain of branches, and stepped into its shade.

“I can feel it, here” Merrill beckoned, out stretched fingers reaching for Hawke.

Hawke obliged. Merrill pressed Hawke’s left hand to trunk, and placed her own over, matching how Hawke had splayed her fingers. Merrill’s hands were much smaller, with thin fingers than nearly reached Hawke’s fingertips. They were scarred, little knicks around her knuckles and slashed over the wider parts. But they were soft against Hawke’s skin, a stark contrast to Hawke’s calloused ones.

Hawke’s breath caught when she felt a small pulse of mana shoot through her fingers, connecting her to the tree. She could almost feel a pulse beneath her palm.

“You feel that?” Merrill whispered.

Hawke stepped closer, leaning into Merrill’s lithe frame. Pressing a kiss to her temple, she said, “Yes.”

Merrill hummed her contentment, and rested her head against Hawke’s cheek.

“She was planted here as a sapling. You can feel her youth flowing through her branches. Even though she’s not from here, she’s taken root and claimed it as her own. The soil has embraced her. She is happy.”

“Does she want to stay here though,” Hawke wondered, “or would she rather return to where she came from?”

“How would she Hawke, she’s a tree.”

Hawke let out a breathless laugh, the implication Hawke was trying to subtly convey getting lost in translation. Hawke broke their connection with the willow and spun Merrill around to face her. She took both of Merrill’s hands in her own.

“Merrill, are you happy here, with me?”

Merrill’s eyes widened. “Hawke, of co—“

The sound of dogs barking from the northern side of the garden made both women jump, Merrill clutching harder onto Hawke’s hands. The sound of their paws hitting the stone pathway was growing louder at a alarming speed.

“Shit, we gotta go,” Hawke took off, Merrill in tow, through the curtain of swaying branches, and out the southern gate.

ii.

The second attempt was sidetracked by petty revenge.

Upon descending into lowtown, after their escape from Hightown, they decided to wander through the pop up market. New merchants and old gathered in the square to sell their wares. Merrill kept close to Hawke, hovering by her side. Hawke silently cursed herself for wasting that perfect opportunity. A different kind of grand gesture was going to have to do. Perhaps in the heart of the square, she could just announce her intentions, sweep Merrill off her feet to the sound of cheers and applause from the nosy onlookers. She glanced over her shoulder at a curious Merrill, eyeing the various stalls as they slowly made their way through the crowd.

Hawke took a deep breath. They were only a few paces away from the center. It was now or never.

“Oi, you!”

An angry voice shouted in their general direction. Hawke whipped around to see an all too familiar merchant pointing directly at her with one hand, face red with rage, while waving madly with his other to a Templar guard.

“Andraste’s tits, this bloke is still mad at us?”

“You did blow up his stall last month, Hawke.”

“No, Anders blew it up with a well-timed fireball. We knew he was carrying illegal substances and trying to sell them to slavers. It wasn’t my fault those substances were flammable.”

The Templar slowly turned his head and stared directly at Hawke. With a swift motion of his hand, he signaled and three more Templars seemingly spring out of thing air. “Arrest them,” the guard captain bellowed, and then charged at the pair.

It was Merrill who reacted first, grabbing Hawke and taking off in the opposite direction. She led Hawke through the market, weaving between merchant stalls and laughing between breaths. The guards giving chase were no match in their heavy armor in the midday sun, their bulk getting caught in throng of the crowd. Hawke knew they were in no real danger, and let Merrill guide them safely through lowtown, ducking into an ally to catch their breath.

“It is never a dull day with you, vhenan,” Merrill said, pressing her forehead to Hawke’s chest. Hawke could feel each rise and fall of Merrill’s own, and synced her breathing in time.

“Never,” she whispered against Merrill’s hair, “it could be like this, forever you know.”

“I know,” Merrill lifted her head to look Hawke in eyes, “And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Merrill’s hand cupped Hawke’s face as she stood on her toes to place a tender kiss on Hawke’s lips. “I would spend all my days running, if it meant I would get to be with you.”

“Truly?” Hawke slid one arm around Merrill’s waist, and placed her free hand over Merrill’s where it rested on her face.

Merrill opened her mouth to speak, but was drowned out by the cries of smug Templars, who had finally caught up to them.

“Truly!” Merrill yelled over the roar of the Templars as they thundered down the narrow alley, and let Hawke lead them towards the docks.

When they made it, a familiar voice called out to the fleeing pair.

“I’ll take it from here,” Isabela said with a wink, dagger spinning in her hand as she leapt from the bow of ship.

A blueshifted blur sped past Hawke in flash, and the sudden strangled cry that echoed after it left no doubt in her mind that no one was going to follow them after this point. Fenris would make sure of that.

iii.

The sunlight that filtered through the trees left shifting patterns on the forest floor, swaying with each passing breeze. Merrill’s fingers were loosely entwined with Hawke’s as they strolled off the main path. Merrill had taken some of the flowers she had cut and braided them into her hair, adding pops of pink and yellow to her dark locks. She still held onto to one, twirling it aimlessly as they walked.

When they reached a clearing with a babbling stream Hawke stopped.

“Merrill,” Hawke started, voice getting caught in throat. She swallowed.

Confused, Merrill turned, a question forming on her lips.

Before someone or something, could ruin the moment again, Hawke reached into her pocket and pulled out the small emerald box.

Merrill glanced between Hawke and the box, realization dawning on her face a few moments later. The flower dropped from her hand.

“I had this whole plan,” Hawke said, turning the box over in her hand, “today in the garden was supposed to be the perfect spot, I was going to ask you to marry me, sweep you into my arms and carry you off to my estate, but, ah,” Hawke let out a nervous laugh, and brushed the hair that had fallen into her eyes away. “We just couldn’t catch a break. So I have to ask you now, here, not in a garden, not where our friends are waiting to celebrate, after being chased down twice.”

Hawke dropped to one knee, and opened the box. Inside was a silver ring, the metal woven to look like vines overlapping in an infinty circle, Tiny diamonds glistened from inbetween segments of the braided metal.

“I wanted this to be special and perfect because you deserve that, and I’m realizing I don’t think I’ll ever be perfect, or that the life I can give you would be, but—“

Hawke was silenced with a crushing kiss, Merrill’s hands sliding up her neck, and into her hair.

“I don’t need perfect, Hawke,” she said between kisses that Hawke was eager to return, l only need you.”

Merrill’s words were as sweet as her lips that wandered over Hawke’s cheek, and pressed into her temple. She pulled back, pushing a stray piece of Hawke’s hair that harden fallen yet again out of place.

“Is that a yes?”

“Ar lath ma,” she said, pulling Hawke to her feet, “For you, my heart will always say yes.”


End file.
